And Tears
by randomlymoist
Summary: [WIP] A Story Of Obsession.
1. And Tears: Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it.

**Author's Note: **This is the first chapter of my first fanfiction. Due to the release of HP & the HBP this chapter and the next chapter have been revised slightly so that 'And Tears' now follows on from the sixth year rather than the fifth year, i.e. HP and chums are going into the seventh year. Despite this change, i'll try not to have any HBP spoilers, but I can't guarantee this so you have been warned! All reviews are welcome. Please be gentle with me.

**And Tears**

Chapter One

And tears. The salty water couldn't be contained, same as the wavering moans that escaped moist lips in the dark. Fingers curled around softness that lay invisible in the oppressive black. All encompassing black. It cloaked green irises, melted into black hair, assaulted his skin.

Harry didn't know what the tears were about tonight. There were so many things he could choose from, so many memories he would rather not have. Nothing in particular visited him now where he lay clutching a pillow on the small bed that had been squeezed in amongst the debris of Ron's room. Maybe that was it. The emptiness. The nothing. But Harry didn't want an answer to what made him feel as he did now. He just wanted to concentrate on burying his fingers into the pillow, instead of desperately scrabbling at whatever bare skin he could find on his body.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Harry turned in his bed, trying to pull himself together. No longer facing the wall that he couldn't see, he opened his eyes. There was no telling the difference, the same blackness reigned. Pulling himself further out of that space where he'd been nestled within his own mind, he became more aware of his surroundings and the sounds around him. The ghoul was rattling around and howling in the attic above him and Hedwig was gently hooting in a reprimanding manner at an energetic Pig, but something was missing.

"Ron?" Harry whispered, the words barely escaping his raw throat.

"Yes, mate?" the answer came floating through the darkness.

Harry sniffed silently and clutched at the pillow he held more tightly. "Not asleep?"

"No." A pause. "Harry…"

"I'm alright." Harry turned back to face the wall again. "Goodnight."

"Harry…" Ron's voice came again, laden with concern.

"Best get some sleep. Hogwarts tomorrow." A feeling of fear blossomed somewhere within Harry's chest and radiated through his body. As it reached his face he felt his eyes begin to prickle again. "Goodnight."

"'Night," Ron replied, turning dejectedly in his bed to face the wall also.

* * *

Ron finished wrestling Hermione's trunk into the compartment's overhead carrier and flopped down into a seat very red in the face and puffing heavily.

"What did you pack in there? Rocks, along with your usual library?" Ron grumbled at Hermione who sat opposite him watching in rapt amusement.

"Don't be so silly and melodramatic. I could have done it myself, you know. I'm clueless as to why you insisted on doing it if you're just going to grouch about it with your puny, little arms," Hermione grinned. Harry laughed from where he sat beside his redheaded best friend.

"My arms are NOT puny!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes flicking between Hermione and Harry. "C'mon. Back me up, Harry," he whined.

Harry held his hands up high, laughter still cascading from his lips. "Keep me well out of it."

Ron slouched down in his seat, eyes staring intently at the window and a scowl on his face. A loud rapping noise brought him out of his sulk before he could delve in too deeply. The Hogwarts Express had yet to pull out of Platform 9¾ and Molly Weasley was currently on the platform jumping up and down, exuberantly waving her arms above her head to attract Ron's attention.

Turning a deep red, Ron jumped up and yanked open the window. "Mum!" he hissed at the middle-aged woman below.

"You're off until Christmas and I don't even get a proper goodbye! Now, lean down here and give your mother a kiss," Mrs Weasley's high-pitched voice wafted through the window.

"Mum!" Ron hissed again.

Molly's eyes flashed. "Come now," she said, a dangerous edge to her voice. Ron tried to ignore his sniggering best friends behind him as he leaned out the window so that the whole top half of his body hung perilously outside of the train. Molly clasped her hands to either side of his face and planted a loud kiss beside his mouth.

"Now you be good. Look after these two and your sister…" Releasing Ron's face suddenly so that Harry and Hermione had to grab his ankles to stop him overbalancing, the highly emotional Mrs Weasley spun around on the platform. "GINNY!" she shrieked, rushing away alongside the train to find her youngest child, Ron now completely forgotten.

Having helped Harry pull a very embarrassed Ron back into the train, Hermione grabbed the latter's hand, dragging him towards the compartment door.

"Come on, we'll be late for the meeting with the other prefects, the Head Boy and the Head Girl," Hermione urged Ron, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. The pink spots that rose in her cheeks and the flash of the gold badge on her robes, which were engraved with capital letters 'H' and 'G', thwarted any chance of this being successful.

"Yet again making sure we don't foolishly make the mistake of thinking that badge's sole purpose is to remind us of your initials…" Ron said, almost wistfully.

Shoving the lanky boy out the door, Hermione turned back to Harry. "We'll come back after. I'm sure Ginny will come along after she's done being assaulted by Mrs Weasley."

"Hey! That's my mother you're talking about!" Ron near on squealed out in the aisle.

Harry chuckled as he heard Hermione respond with something that ended with her referring to Ron as 'Puny Arms' before she snapped the sliding door of the compartment shut.

Suddenly alone, Harry leant his head back, closing his eyes as the whistle blew that signalled the start of the long journey north. As he felt the Hogwarts Express begin to slowly chug out of the station, Harry allowed his mind to wander.

It was his first time being alone since he managed to battle his way into the shower at the Burrow that morning. If he ignored his bathroom breaks, it was his first time being properly alone since the beginning of the summer when he had been locked away in his bedroom at Privet Drive. Despite the Order's warning to Uncle Vernon, Harry had still found himself roughly bundled into his bedroom as soon as he'd arrived at the Dursleys' that day.

Rather than feeling disappointment or anger at the treatment and immediately sending an owl to Lupin, Harry had felt only relief at the opportunity for some solitude. He'd been allowed to wallow in his grief and despair without interruption, not even being called upon to do chores. Dotted amongst the oceanic weeks of salt water that endlessly poured from his eyes and surrounded him, threatening to ruthlessly drown his barely beating heart, Harry also stumbled onto arid island days of numbness where tears just wouldn't come. Feelings were foreign on those days and he would just lay in bed, staring at the crack in the ceiling, the bulge in the wall, the branch outside the window.

Sat on the Hogwarts Express now, eyes closed against the scenery of fields and trees that seemed to slip past the window on a loop now that the train had left the concrete grey of London, Harry felt himself drifting off into a comforting doze. Wishing to hold onto this newfound state, he neglected to open his eyes when he heard the door slide open and then shut again. Not hearing any greeting he decided that the person who had opened the door had shut it again without entering the compartment. Harry let his head roll slightly to the left so that he faced the window and could feel the sunlight warm his features as he escaped to the sleep that had avoided him the night before.

* * *

"WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE?"

Harry's eyes snapped open as the shriek penetrated his nap. Bleary eyes struggled to take in a pink-cheeked Ginny standing in the open doorway with a rather nervous looking Neville Longbottom standing behind her, his hands gripped tightly around the toad Trevor.

"Well I _was_ sleeping…" Harry muttered angrily, nudging his glasses back up his nose.

"N-Not you," Neville stuttered, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. "_Him_."

Harry turned, still groggy from his nap, to see who was sitting in the seat that Neville had indicated with a shaky thrust of his toad. What he saw woke him up like a bucket of ice-cold water in the face.

"Malfoy?" Harry stood quickly, towering over the other boy. "What _are_ you doing here?"

The platinum blond haired youth didn't utter a word. He merely sat there, face turned up, eyes meeting Harry's. Though his pose was defiant, the rigid body, lifted chin and scowling lips; his pale grey eyes held no challenge. They held no challenge yet held Harry prisoner.

Harry shuffled his feet uneasily at the prolonged eye contact. "Um… Malfoy?" he asked quietly.

In the silence, Harry's eyes flicked to Ginny and Neville, who still stood in the doorway, as if begging for their support. He got only confused looks in return. In the short time that the eye contact between the two polar opposites had been broken, Malfoy found his feet.

"Excuse me," he muttered before turning on his heel and pushing past the stunned red-haired and round-faced Gryffindors on his way out of the compartment.

"What the hell..?" Harry began but his question petered away as his mouth hung open, lost for words.

"I should've hexed him!" Ginny grimaced, nudging Harry's mouth shut as she stepped into the compartment and flung herself angrily into a seat. "What happened, Harry?" she asked when all three of them were seated.

Harry Potter shook his head, at a complete loss, and then gave a feeble shrug. He had no clue what had happened. He had been asleep and then had woken up to that whole rather bizarre scenario. He shrugged again, just as Ron and Hermione stumbled into the compartment. Hermione placed herself beside Ginny while Ron flumped down next to a rather flummoxed looking Harry.

"That meeting was killer… _then_ traipsing along the train sorting out all those hysterical first-years… Ugh, I'm beat!" Ron exclaimed, failing to pick up the strange atmosphere that had filled the compartment from before his and Hermione's entrance. "And guess what, that Ernie Macmillan has somehow managed to be Head Boy! But he does seem better this year, I mean, he didn't act pompous once during the whole meeting… but then again we could all _see_ he was Head Boy, he didn't _need_ to gloat. I bet he loved us all sitting there in silence, listening to his instructions. Hah, he'll be lucky if he'll have another meeting like that. Malfoy didn't turn up and you know that one can't shut his mouth. Can't wait to see when they clash…"

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, interrupting Ron's monologue, eyes travelling over the befuddled expressions of her friends. Ron followed Hermione's lead, realising that something must be awry solely by the concern in her voice.

"Malfoy turned up _here_ instead," Ginny offered, in a somewhat gruff tone.

"_What?_" Ron shouted. He turned to look at Harry, who just shrugged in return, then the redhead turned his pale blue eyes back to his younger sibling as she continued.

"Neville and I walked in to find Malfoy just sitting here, watching Harry sleep. It was kind of creepy," Ginny uttered with a shudder.

"Yeah, it _was_ really strange," Neville added, idly squeezing Trevor so that the toad's eyes bulged even more than Umbridge's before stopping himself with a decidedly dismissive shrug.

The shrug did nothing to soothe Hermione who looked completely horrified at what she was hearing. A thought seemed to suddenly hit her as she turned to Harry with a gasp and asked, "Did he do anything to you?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Well, I don't think so. I was asleep…" Harry bit his lip at the thought of Malfoy hexing him in his sleep. "How would I know?"

All eyes turned to Hermione, whose brown ones widened at the sudden focus she was being subjected to. "I-I… Oh, Harry, I don't know! We'll take you straight to Madam Pomfrey when we get to Hogwarts. Do you feel alright?"

Harry thought about it, surreptitiously moving different parts of his body. He looked around at the other occupants of the compartment who all had their eyes trained carefully on him and shrugged. "Yeah, I feel fine."

The compartment door slid open slowly and Luna Lovegood drifted in, climbing over the legs of the Gryffindors and settling down between Harry and the window without a word. The seventh-years exchanged a look between them as Ginny stared disbelievingly at the only Ravenclaw amongst the lions.

"Hi, Loony," the red-haired girl said loudly.

Hermione elbowed Ginny in the ribs then turned to face the blonde girl. "Luna," she said with a polite smile.

"Malfoy's in tears," Luna responded in a rather bored and detached tone, her eyes fixed on the blurred greens and darkening blue sky outside.

"_WHAT?_" the Gryffindors yelled as one. Seemingly in response, the compartment door slammed open again spewing forth a gleeful Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. Seamus was grinning as if Ireland had just won the Quidditch World Cup all over again, and Dean as if West Ham had finally actually mastered the art of football.

"Oh, Jaysus! MALFOY'S CRYING! _Malfoy _is_ crying his little heart out_ a few compartments down! Crabbe and Goyle are dancing around him with these disgusted looks on their faces; they have absolutely no clue what to do! He's proper blubbering like a baby! You should see it, it's GREAT!" Seamus shouted through uncontrollable laughter.

**Author's Note:** Hope it wasn't too horrific. Feel free to review and let me know.


	2. And Tears: Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it.

**Author's Note: **Thank you to those who have reviewed so far. Please keep them coming! Again, this chapter has been revised due to the release of HBP.

**And Tears**

Chapter Two

Draco Malfoy sat alone in his thestral drawn carriage to Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. He was glad for the time by himself after his rather public breakdown on the train. Half the student body had casually passed by his compartment to get a glimpse of the Ice Prince in the throes of despair, some less casually. The Irish boy from Gryffindor had come back for seconds, that time with the Weasel, Weaselina and that bumbling, incompetent fool, Longbottom, in tow.

Draco cringed as he recalled the little visit, though it was a somewhat distorted memory. He had been sat on the floor between the seats in his compartment with his legs tightly pulled to his chest, forehead pressed to his knees and deep uneven breaths tearing at his throat and escaping his slightly parted lips. His ears had been filled with the sounds of Crabbe and Goyle heavily lumbering about, trying to block the view of their diminished leader from the rest of the school whilst not risking getting too close to him themselves, as if displaying emotion were contagious. And laughter. His ears had also been filled with raucous laughter, muffled gasps and shocked whispers. However, what was infinitely worse was his mind being alternately occupied with the sounds of his mother's piercing, harsh words, criticising and demeaning; and the screams he heard coming from her rooms when she thought him asleep.

The head of the vast Malfoy estate turned his face to the window of his carriage. He couldn't make out much with his empty grey eyes, but he didn't mind because that was not why he had made the movement. Something within him often berated him and told him that he needed to move at regular intervals, as if to check that he continued living in this reality, ensuring he didn't somehow slip away to some other unknown place while he wasn't paying attention.

The young Malfoy didn't notice when the numerous lit windows, which seemingly hovered in the impenetrable dark, grew from the small pinpricks they had been by the station to the large squares and rectangles they were now. He did, however, feel when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

* * *

Harry Potter walked up the large steps to the entrance hall flanked on either side by his best friends. He ignored their excited chatter, instead keeping his eyes intently on the Slytherin a few students ahead of him. Even from behind, Harry could see that despite the determined strides Malfoy took and the high angle at which he held his head, it wasn't the same youth who had spent the past six years strutting around Hogwarts and purposefully trying to aggravate Harry and his friends. Yet, he still could not imagine the young man breaking down in tears, and certainly not where anyone was free to see. He would not allow himself to believe it, and despite the hearsay of others he had no reason to question his doubt. He had not been one of the many who had scurried along to witness Malfoy's grief, just in case it was true…

The large crowd of budding witches and wizards had slowed down to a crawl on reaching the entrance hall as they tried to trickle through the narrow doorway into the Great Hall for the welcoming feast. Bored by the slow shuffle, Harry's eyes swept over the large space he was trying to exit along with at least two hundred others. He somehow couldn't imagine Peeves passing up the opportunity to torture such a large, captive portion of the school and he wanted to be prepared. Though he did not detect any mischievous poltergeists lurking around, he did spot a lone figure with a crop of pale silver hair skulking away towards the dungeons.

Ron found himself stumbling backwards as Harry shoved past him and began battling his way out of the crowd. Grabbing a trailing arm, Ron managed to delay Harry's escape. "Harry..?"

"I need to see McGonagall about something," Harry shot back in response to the unasked question.

"But you'll miss the Sorting…"

Harry yanked his arm out of Ron's grasp.

"It's important!" Harry yelled behind him as he continued pushing his way through bodies, throwing breathless apologies at disgruntled Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to his left and right. Ron turned to Hermione, confusion rampant in his azure eyes.

"What can he have to see McGonagall about so urgently before term's even started?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued her slow shuffle towards the doors to the Great Hall. "Oh, please. Professor McGonagall is sat through there waiting to go and get the first-years off Hagrid for the Sorting, just like every other year."

Hermione watched Ron's eyes widen and nodded along impatiently as if it would act as some sort of catalyst for the process of slow realisation. Suddenly Ron stopped and twisted to look behind him, eyes roving about the entrance hall for a sign of his friend of six years.

"I should find him and tell him…" Ron muttered, eyes still searching, ignoring the frustrated sounds coming from Ginny who had walked into his back when he had come to such an abrupt halt. Hermione merely sighed and yanked the youngest Weasley son over the threshold into the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor table.

"He knows," she growled quietly.

* * *

Harry jogged the last few steps to catch Malfoy before he disappeared through the bricks that were the concealed entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"Malfoy…" Harry puffed, reaching a hand out for the other boy's shoulder, but quickly pulling it back before any contact was made, scared of what wrath it may incur.

Draco froze, having been unaware that he had been followed until that point. He slowly turned to see who had been tracking him and bit down hard on his lower lip when he found himself facing large, viridian, almond shaped eyes watching him inquisitively from behind round glasses. A single tear spilled over and made a run for it over the smooth porcelain of his cheek.

Harry had his confirmation. The rumours were true; Draco Malfoy was capable of tears. Shocked by the revelation, Harry took a step back but immediately regretted it as Malfoy dropped to the floor, as if by taking that one step away, Harry had removed all the support he had. Unsure of what to do, Harry glanced over his shoulder at the empty dungeon corridor, made a quick decision and knelt down before the shuddering heap in front of him. New to the whole comforting thing, Harry reached for a shaking shoulder and gave it a tentative rub. Malfoy's face shot up, moist and glittering in the gentle, flickering glow from the torches burning in the brackets along the walls, eyes latching onto Harry's.

"Shh," Harry murmured, wondering what could have reduced his childhood enemy to accepting comfort from the one person he hated more than any other. All thoughts froze, however, as a sniffling Malfoy lunged himself at Harry, clambering onto his lap and burying his wet face into the warm crook that he found waiting for him between neck and shoulder. This was no easy feat as Harry wasn't actually sitting and almost fell backwards at the velocity with which the other boy came at him. Unclear of what other option he had, Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy. This action of true (even if rather hesitant) compassion triggered yet more sobs, but also some words.

"My childhood is over..." Draco struggled to get out between sniffs and gasps for air.

And there, Harry had the answer to his question, as well as another he had not even thought to ask.

* * *

The ceiling of the Great Hall perfectly mimicked the dark night sky, but went completely unnoticed by all but the enthralled first-years. The rest of the students were too engrossed in excessively loud chatter to notice, which was perfectly acceptable considering all the friends catching up after the long summer apart. The Gryffindor table was no exception, contributing greatly to the hubbub. However, the summer wasn't the only topic of discussion, events on the Hogwarts Express were also playing a large role in the conversation.

"Thank you _so much_, for bringing it to my attention," Ron roared at Seamus, spluttering roast potato as he spoke and pounding a fist on the table. He took a large gulp and turned to Hermione. "Could you imagine if I'd missed that? That's got to be at _least_ a year's worth of ammunition against Malfoy the Ferret! He can bounce _and_ blubber!"

The rest of the seventh-year Gryffindors guffawed at Ron's words, but Hermione just scowled and continued to eat in silence.

"Look, he hasn't even dared to turn up for the feast. Probably flooding out the prefect's bathroom," Seamus snickered, eyes on the gap between the hulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. Turning to face some sixth-years seated further along the table, he raised his voice, "Colin… HEY CREEVEY! Tell me you got a photo of that."

"Of course," Colin snorted, as if the mere suggestion of him not toting a camera at someone in visible distress was too absurd to comprehend.

"Good, because I want a copy!" Seamus grinned.

A chorus of "and me"s and "me too"s burst out along the table. It was too much. Hermione threw down her fork. The look on her face made it clear that she had been containing her anger for a while and could hold it in no more.

"Don't any of you," she hissed loudly so that the whole table could hear, "feel the _least_ bit bad at poking fun at Malfoy when he's down?"

Her eyes scanned those of her housemates looking for any signs of remorse, but she only encountered blank expressions. The bushy haired girl seemed to become even more infuriated and her voice reached a shrill level. "How can you get joy from the suffering of another human being?"

"Human? I thought he was a ferret," Ron muttered under his breath, knowing he was in dangerous territory. He obviously wasn't quiet enough, however, as the table burst into uproarious laughter once again. He didn't laugh himself, despite Hermione's brown eyes flashing dangerously dark as if daring him to.

"Well, at least I know one other person in the school who is capable of a little empathy. Harry didn't run off to gawk at him as if it were primetime entertainment," Hermione said haughtily, settling herself back down to her meal.

"Um… where _is_ Harry?" Neville asked from his seat opposite Hermione, one hand clasped to his chest to prevent Trevor from clambering out of his breast pocket. Hermione shot a nervous glance at Ron who quickly piped up.

"Talking to McGonagall."

A Mexican wave seemed to take place as head after head turned to look at the Head table. Professor Minerva McGonagall was deep in conversation with a black haired, green eyed, bespectacled somebody that most definitely was _not_ Harry Potter. This somebody had black hair that fell in curls around her face, and a small snub nose that was so upturned it almost bordered on being piggy, but in a rather impish, attractive way. Looking further south it could be noted that there was also a fair amount of cleavage on display.

"Wow, Harry sure changed…" Seamus murmured through the drool.

Hermione snorted. "Don't be stupid."

Ginny once again found herself nudging a mouth closed, (Ron's rather than Harry's) and this time she swiftly followed it up with a thump. She ignored the whimper issuing from her brother in favour of turning to Hermione.

"I recognise that nose… that's Tonks!" Ginny grinned before adding with a squeal, "She must be our new Defence Against The Dark Arts professor!"

"I think you're right," Hermione said slowly, scrutinising the young woman at the Head table.

"I don't know, I've never seen Tonks look like… well… look like _that_," Ron said doubtfully, not sure where to rest his eyes as they kept being drawn where they shouldn't. Colour was beginning to rise in his cheeks.

"Of _course_ not. She _is_ a Metamorphmagus, after all," Hermione said in a rather exasperated fashion. Remembering how everyone's attention had been drawn to the new addition to the faculty in the first place, she lowered her voice considerably and turning to Ron, asked "What about Harry?"

"Do you think we should go look for him?" Ron asked, his temperature slowly beginning to regulate itself now his attention had been drawn away from… ahem… other things.

"We can't! The feast will be over soon. You'll have to oversee the first-years and I've got to pass on the password to the other years. Why the hell did Harry have to decide to go missing," Hermione grumbled. "I just hope he hasn't bumped into Malfoy."

"Hell no. We wouldn't want him to drown," Ron said, shovelling more food onto his plate and into his mouth at the news that the feast was coming to an end.

* * *

Harry felt the grip around his neck relax as the boy perched somewhat precariously on his lap began to calm down. Assuming the comforting had been completed, Harry thought it was now acceptable for him to push Malfoy off him, so that is what he gently did. Harry felt the other boy's muscles stiffen slightly in response before he dropped his arms from Harry's neck and crawled off his lap to sit with his back against the cold, stone wall of the corridor.

Draco shot an injured look at Harry before pulling his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees as he had on the train. This time there were no tears though. He had already cried himself to the point of emptiness.

"You've done your time, you can leave," Draco said in a cool tone, not lifting his head up from his knees.

Harry observed Draco Malfoy, confusion etched on his face. He'd done his time? Did Malfoy think that Harry had just stayed out of obligation? Harry's thoughts paused. Well, hadn't he? His intention when he'd originally followed the Slytherin definitely hadn't been to hunt him down and hold him. But even though Harry had pushed Malfoy away he was still here and felt no burning desire to walk away and leave the boy sat like this in the corridor.

Still unable to tear his eyes away from the distressed person across the corridor to him, other questions invaded Harry's mind. Was this really Draco Malfoy? This being that was currently a curled up ball of flesh? The expensive variation of the school robes and the fine hair of such a shocking colour it _had_ to be unique to the Malfoy lineage, said a firm **yes**. But looking at the picture as a whole Harry couldn't be too sure.

His inner monologue stopped in response to a loud rumble from the vicinity of his stomach. Shit, the feast must almost be over. It had been a long time since his large breakfast at the Burrow and he'd been sleeping when the woman with the trolley had come around on the Hogwarts Express. Malfoy must be starving as well. If the feast were almost over that also meant this dungeon corridor would soon be awash with Slytherins.

"C'mon, Malfoy. I reckon you could do with some food," Harry said firmly, having made up his mind. He stood up and flexed his legs, chasing away the tightness around his joints from being stuck in such an awkward position with Malfoy's weight atop him. Harry turned to his hallway companion to see him looking up at him, an expression on his face that Harry couldn't interpret.

"I'm not going to the feast so everyone can laugh at me," Malfoy said quietly, then dropped his eyes to inspect the material that covered his knees. When he spoke again, anger was evident in his tone. "Why don't you go join your Gryffindor friends and laugh at how you saw Draco Malfoy, son of… son of Lucius Malfoy, crumble on the Hogwarts Express?"

Malfoy's eyes raised to battle Harry's, this time flinty with defiant anger as they had been whenever he'd looked at Harry Potter during the previous six years, but Harry could detect hurt and shame there too.

"I wouldn't. I didn't." Harry stepped closer to Draco. "I didn't see you on the train."

Draco's eyes widened at the news before swiftly dropping to his knees again, his arms tightening around his legs. The distant sound of chatter, laughter and footsteps sounded somewhere above their heads as students filed out of the Great Hall, a quarter of that number descending stairs to make their way to the dungeon corridor where Harry now stood over Draco.

"Malfoy?"

Draco looked up to see an outstretched hand; a _friendly_ hand. A hand that mimicked the hand that Draco himself had offered Harry on that first train ride to Hogwarts. With only a second more of hesitation, Draco slowly released his legs and slipped his right hand into Harry's, allowing the stronger boy to pull him up.

Harry immediately began walking briskly along the corridor in the opposite direction to the slowly growing crescendo that announced the approach of the Slytherins. He kept a firm grip on Draco, gently tugging him along behind him.

"We'll cut down a few of those old unused corridors past the old Potions classrooms, get closer to the Hufflepuffs and the kitchens," Harry said once they had ducked around the first corner. He loosened his hold on the cold, pale hand in his own, setting Draco free if he so wished, but the smaller boy just tightened his grip.

"How do you know your way around the dungeons so well?" Draco asked, curiosity over-riding the need inside him to be silent and submissive.

_The Marauder's Map. Four years of owning the Marauder's Map, though only three years with my godfather... not that I can really count the first and the third was cut… short_, Harry thought. He decided not to answer, truthfully or otherwise. Malfoy wasn't worthy of the knowledge. He was _not_ worthy of Sirius.

Draco felt Harry stiffen from where he now walked beside him and decided not to ask any more questions. Instead he opted to walk along in silence, clutching Harry's hand, going wherever Harry led him.

* * *

Harry had been surprised when Dobby had greeted Malfoy with great warmth. He had expected the house elf to be terrified of his previous master, but on the contrary Dobby and Malfoy had conversed happily. During this, other house elves scuttled about preparing Malfoy's favourite childhood food "just as little Master Malfoy desires it" on Dobby's orders. Harry remained forgotten, but did not mind. A slightly happier Winky had provided him with a platter of assorted sandwiches so that he was able to watch the strange interaction between the Slytherin and house elf.

Many sandwiches later, Harry slipped away unnoticed from the kitchens leaving Draco and Dobby to catch up, his mind lingering behind him a few minutes, replaying what he had witnessed. He couldn't help but remember how both Draco and Dobby would flinch whenever conversation drew near Draco's father. In the same way he couldn't stop himself from seeing the sparkle of an unshed tear that had filled Draco's eyes when his mother was mentioned or Dobby made reference to the fact that "little Master Malfoy" wasn't so little anymore.


	3. And Tears: Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it.

****

**Author's Note: **Again I'd like to thank those who have reviewed so far, kisses to all. I firmly believe the more the merrier, so please keep them coming! More, more, more!

**And Tears**

Chapter Three

Harry Potter sat on a clean area of the Owlery floor with Hedwig perched on his knee, a hand idly caressing her soft feathers. It was already the third week of term and it seemed to have passed without Harry noticing.

The tears at night had continued. It had become routine for Harry to wait until the other seventh-year boys were hidden behind their bed hangings before entering the dormitory and falling into his own bed, placing a Silencing charm around him. Sealed away, he could release the pent up sorrow as loudly as he wanted.

Amongst the tears and breathless gasps, he often found himself scratching feverishly at his arms, as if trying to tear away the flesh to find what lay inside. If there was anything good there then he needed to know, he needed proof. Only proof would cease his growing suspicion (which his mind was steadily converting to fact) that there was only something rotten inside. In his nocturnal moments of scrabbling at his limbs, a voice within screamed at him, '_YOU NEED THIS. LET THE MAGGOTS OUT!'_ Even so, the feeling of the sore, red raw skin hidden under the sleeves of his school robes always left a residue of guilt in his stomach the following day.

Harry shifted his position slightly, his bottom numb from sitting on the cold, stone floor. Hedwig gave a soft hoot and flew away to settle on a rafter high above her morose owner's head. Harry felt sad at the loss, but understood. His impromptu visit had interrupted the snowy owl's daytime sleep, which usually occurred after her night of gruelling hunting. Harry was just grateful she had spent as long with him as she had.

Now left without the companionship of Hedwig, Harry still felt reluctant to leave the Owlery and rejoin the bustle of the floors below him. He didn't fit there. Yes, he had finally come to realise and accept it. He wasn't like everybody else, and he wasn't altogether sure that he wanted to be.

The rest of Hogwarts and beyond were all happy in their ignorant insignificance, able to converse in terrified, hushed whispers about the war that raged distantly one moment, and then the latest scandalous article in _'Witch Weekl_y' the next, as if Lord Voldemort and the rumours that Celestina Warbeck's newborn baby was not her husband's were on a par.

Harry growled angrily at his thoughts, angry because none of those idiots really mattered in the constant eternal battle between Light and Dark. None of them even seemed to really care anyway. They were full of sorrow and shock with their gushing, heartfelt condolences when someone's relative was so abruptly removed from any tangible reach. They would temporarily shower that student with unwanted awe, sympathy and fame. But most importantly and most telling, they would all eventually forget until it happened to another colleague, or until it happened to them.

So Harry didn't waste tears wishing to be like the clueless people who he interacted with everyday and called 'friends', and he definitely didn't wish anyone to be like him either. The thought caused a shudder of fear and disgust to trip along his vertebrae.

Harry was now used to the students who inevitably drifted to him, the lost emptiness that could still be observed in his eyes always unavoidably fresh, raw and burning in their own. Always their deep-seated need to mourn, to be angry, to seek revenge, to wallow, offload and release would be placed in Harry. Time after time Harry freed them of their burdens only to add them to the baggage threatening to break his own back. There was nothing else to do. He was to be the end of this, the prophecy said so, and it was his responsibility to take all of this with him. The world's thrashing, confused feelings would either be destroyed with him or he would somehow use them to destroy Voldemort. So he sent those students on their way with stories of his losses that were laced in bile they couldn't detect and sickeningly positive messages to uplift that made his stomach writhe and his palms sweat.

Ron and Hermione seemed oblivious to what was going on within their friend. Harry felt somewhat bitter that they weren't aware of any change in him. They were too concerned with what Harry was _destined_ to do and finding ways he could do it rather than what he was _currently_ doing and what it meant for how he was feeling at present. He knew that he couldn't really blame them. It was only to be expected when he lived every day behind a mask that he never allowed to slip. Why worry about an apparently carefree, happy, omnipotent Harry who could heal anyone who needed it, when there was an approaching showdown with the most terrifying Dark wizard of the century to plan? But still a voice in his head told him that if they were real friends, if they knew Harry at all, they would have noticed something.

He was tired of the fake grin he hitched onto his face each morning. He was tired of having to understand. He was tired of the empty laughter and meaningless conversation. He was tired of having to save. He was tired of all the sadly hopeful faces that lifted to his with tear tracks and hollow eyes like a soulless army. He was tired of having to remember. He was tired of constantly feeling alone and misunderstood. Just tired. Tired of it all.

At the unwelcome thoughts, Harry banged his head back hard into the wall that he sat against so that it hit with a 'crack'. The flash of pain that sliced across the back of his skull set his teeth on edge and made his vision swim with saltwater before eventually dying down to a dull throb. The throb was a rather warm and welcome feeling. Harry repeated the action again and again, teeth grinding as he released the anger into the wall before pausing to let the throbbing replace it, pushing the pain from his eyes.

Finally his tears had seen daylight.

* * *

Harry crept along the seventh floor corridor towards the Room of Requirement, his head fuzzy and pulsing heavily. He wasn't too fond of the white noise that had now taken residence in his ears; it was making it hard for him to think clearly of what he wanted. He knew what he didn't want. He didn't want to sit alone in the Owlery with the thoughts that led to white noise, and he didn't want to go back to all those people who proclaimed their love and friendship yet thought nothing of someday sacrificing him to save the souls of all the rest of wizardkind.

When Harry reached the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy, he scrunched up his eyes trying to think of what it was that he needed. Finally he whispered, "Somewhere to hide," with eyes still clenched shut and began pacing back and forth in front of the doorless section of wall. He whispered the words over and over as if to memorise his need. On his third time walking past he opened his eyes and saw that a panel oak door had appeared. Harry hesitated, his eyes sweeping the length of the desolate corridor, before hastily opening the door and entering the room. The door slammed forcefully behind him.

Harry stepped into a dark so thick it felt almost solid, his breath hitching before his lungs realised that its supply of oxygen remained untampered with. Harry waited a while for his eyes to slowly adjust to the gloom but the waiting was in vain, the blackness enveloping him would not melt. He took a few tentative steps forward. Despite being able to feel his limbs move it was as if he had remained stationary, he could neither see nor otherwise detect any alteration in the thick void surrounding him.

Harry fumbled for his wand and muttered, "Lumos." The tip of his wand flickered into life and he focussed on the small silvery ball of white light it emitted gratefully, however the wand light went no further. It did not illuminate the room or even the hand that held the wand or the actual wand itself. Only the minute circle of light seemed to exist, as if someone had hole-punched his blindness.

With a whispered "Nox", Harry dropped to the floor. The empty darkness around him seemed to have invaded him, creeping into ears, whooshing up nostrils, slipping through lips and pressing down heavily on eyes to seep inside. He felt incapable of thought or feeling. Without the wand light there was nothing, and it was hard to believe that he was even there at all. The closest thing that he could think of to this was being invisible, but this was much more intense. It wasn't like he had been erased from sight, but had been erased from existence completely and now no longer even possessed any knowledge of himself. It was nice.

* * *

"Harry…"

_Is that me?_

Silence.

Black.

Nothing.

_There is no me._

Stillness.

"Harry, are you there?"

_I'm real?_

Harry's hand twitched slightly, still loosely gripping his wandThe movement amazed him, as he couldn't understand how movement was possible when he most definitely did not exist.

"Potter, let me out. It's too dark. I can't find the door."

Harry thought he heard a slight sob follow the attempt at a cold, stern command, but instantly forgot, because he was assuring himself that he was not real. _Can't hear. Can't forget. Can't have thoughts… because I'm not here. Not here._

"I'm not here… not real… nothing…" The words trailed away from the unseen companion to join the nothingness that filled the rest of the room.

Harry began to feel uneasy. This person was distressed. This person needed him and he was hiding and playing games. He felt ashamed, a cold, guilty shame that invaded his body, driving the nothingness away. How could he believe he was not real when he could feel like this? Granted, he didn't feel like much, but he was something, and that person crying was something too. Someone.

"You're not nothing," Harry whispered.

The words dissolved in the darkness.

"You're not nothing." It was louder and firmer this time. "Lumos."

It would not work. The cloak of darkness remained, refusing to be tossed, not even allowing the small hole of light that had been permitted before. Further attempts were just as futile and Harry gave up.

"Stop this, Potter. I want out. Let me out."

Pause.

"I can't. I don't know how…" Harry's words were drowned out by a low moan. He decided to take a risk, and after taking a deep breath, spoke. "Why do you keep crying, Malfoy?"

"I…" It almost seemed as if Malfoy was mulling this over. "I don't."

Harry almost snorted at the blatant lie. "On the train, in the corridor, now…"

"I am not crying!" Malfoy's startled voice cut through the dark and across Harry's incomplete sentence. "Look, turn on the lights."

"I told you, I can't." Harry heard the sound of panicked, scurrying footsteps followed by what could only be Malfoy falling over. "Are you OK?"

"I have to get out of here…"

Harry remained silent. There was nothing he could do right now and anyway this was the Room of Requirement. If Malfoy really _needed_ to get out then the room would let him out, just as the whistle had appeared in the DA when he needed it. So Harry sat in silence, leaving the room's other occupant to calm down, or need to leave so much he would find his own exit. The silence stretched, and then was abruptly broken.

"I don't know why I cry so much. I never used to cry, up until this summer. I don't think I ever really felt much of anything. Everything's changed now." Malfoy seemed to stop there. Harry opened his mouth to push him further, ask _what_ had changed, but he need not bother, for the other boy continued in a slightly more diminished tone. "At the end of last term I was so busy, and _angry_ about how everything messed up. I was angry with you for helping that process, even if you didn't know that you did. I was so busy being angry and stupid and attempting revenge, I didn't even think of anything else, like what it would be like at home. Well, I had no idea. There was no way I could have."

Lengthy pause.

"Mother was distraught when Father went to Azkaban. I think she was kind of… _lost_, I guess. Lost as to what to do without him there. Not physically, because he was rarely ever actually at the Manor, he was always off serving the Dark Lord…"

Harry didn't know what to think. Malfoy was not even attempting to conceal his father's allegiance to Voldemort. He could see the possibilities, the information he could try and glean, but felt unsettled about having this conversation with Malfoy so obviously not his usual self.

"Why are you telling me this? You don't have to."

"I saw you come in here. I followed because I wanted to find you." Malfoy said no more after this, as if he had answered Harry's question, but Harry was none the wiser.

Growing wary of the silence, Harry said, "OK". He wasn't sure what he was validating, he just knew it was his turn to speak. 'OK' seemed as good as anything else. Malfoy seemed to accept the feeble offering and take it as an invitation to pick up where he had left off.

"Actually… I guess it was easy coping without him. Just be lost and 'grieve'. We'd had a whole year of practise and had perfected our routine. But then he was back."

Harry sat, rigid. Back? But Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban, with the others…

"Don't get me wrong, I _knew_ he would be. The Dementors had left Azkaban after all, what was there to keep him? It was just… _a whole year, Harry!_ He'd been in there a _whole year_ without the Dementors keeping him there, so even though I knew he would be back, I forgot.

"Picture this," a mirthless chuckle, "the prodigal father returning, just… just Flooing in as if he had only Flooed out that morning. He looked the same, maybe a little thinner, clothes not quite pristine, eyes darker… but he was holding his head high and his back was straight. Mother was ecstatic; she's always been devoted to him, as much as he is to the Dark Lord. It seemed as if everything was going to go back to how it was before, my mother quickly forgetting me now she had her husband back, my father… I don't know."

"So everything's alright now?" Harry couldn't keep the bitterness out of his question. Fine, the Malfoy brat had been without his father for a year, but hadn't Harry been without both his parents all his life? Lucius was a Death Eater and had gotten what he had deserved; Harry's parents had only ever fought against the Dark. So what if Malfoy was no longer his mother's only concern and she wanted to spend a little more time with her husband. Hadn't he been spoilt enough?

"He was different. At first I reasoned it all away, I mean, why wouldn't he be different after a year in gaol? Of course he'd be more cold and detached. So I thought nothing of it, and Mother was too happy that he was back to notice anything strange about him." Malfoy seemed to struggle with the next sentence, leaving long gaps between his words in which to gasp for more air. "Then… he had periods where he'd break through the… icy exterior and… there was all this fire burning beneath… all this rage…" He made a choking noise.

"It's OK…" Harry muttered, feeling uncomfortable. He wasn't sure he could continue to listen to the undeniable fear that was seeping from the other boy in cold waves, not after the unjustified flash of anger he had experienced towards him not even a minute before.

"He was always angry at Mother and me, but he never told us why, then he'd just go back to being cold and unfeeling. But that stopped eventually. Soon there wasn't any of the coldness left; the anger chased it all away. He'd rage on for hours about us not fetching him, not helping him. What could we have done? He could have left whenever he wanted after the Dementors went back to the Dark Lord… and I said that to him…"

The silence stretched, until Harry couldn't help himself. "What did he do?" he whispered.

"Locked us up, my mother and me. In the smallest dungeon cell, in complete darkness…" Malfoy's words trailed away and were replaced by his breathing, loud and panicked. "Harry, we have to get out. Where are you? Why can't I find you?"

"Calm down, if you need to find me enough then you will. Please calm down; your dad isn't here now. You're not in the dungeon."

"I know I'm not, it just reminds me… I know he's not here. I mean he can't be, not after the Dementors caught up with him…"

"But I thought…" Harry began, puzzled.

"Well, the Dark Lord wasn't too happy with my… _dad_. It was on His orders."

"Draco, I…"

"My mother kind of lost her mind after that. It's like she took over all of my father's rage and now it's all directed at me. She thinks it's entirely my fault, that I should've gotten him out of Azkaban, that he was right to be angry and lock us up like that because I deserved it. She spent all summer shouting at me, and then at night I'd hear her crying and screaming, begging him to come back… It was like being a child again, with my parents arguing at night when they thought I was asleep and unable to hear." Harry knew that Draco was crying now. "I've never felt so much like a child; now I'm the head of the Malfoy estate."

Harry slowly crawled through the darkness in the direction of the sound of Draco's sobs. He couldn't really relate to what Draco was talking about but he could tell he needed a hug. Harry paused in his movement, ploughing through the thick blackness. He had made no headway and Draco's cries were getting louder, mixed with mutters of 'I'm just a child", "It's too dark" and "I don't want to be alone". Harry desperately tried to think of how he could get to the distressed Slytherin.

_If Draco just needed to find me enough, then he would. Or maybe… _Harry stopped in his movement and fell back to sit on his heels with eyes tightly shut. _I want to find Draco. I want Draco to find me. I **need** Draco to find me. _Harry heard Draco quickly scrambling to his feet and opened his eyes to the now brightly lit room, ready to comfort him.

The room was empty, the door just closing.

****

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay. Hopefully things will move a little faster now.


	4. And Tears: Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it.

**Author's Note:** So much for things moving faster. Anyway, thanks again for the reviews, please find responses at the end of this chapter. Keep your thoughts coming, positive or not, they bring joy to my heart…

**And Tears**

Chapter Four

A buzz of chatter filled the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom as the seventh-years gossiped whilst scribbling away or bouncing ideas between them about their assignment. Tonks (incognito as 'Professor Turpin') slowly walked around the third-floor classroom, bending over desks as she went to see how her students were progressing. She had immediately become a favourite amongst the Hogwarts students, the boys in particular were enamoured by her good looks.

Draco Malfoy sat away from the rest of his classmates refusing to look up from his work. He could feel the eyes of a certain Gryffindor trying to win the attention of his own, but was concentrating on ignoring them. It seemed that since the encounter in the Room of Requirement, Harry Potter was constantly trying to catch his eye whilst Draco was more intent on avoiding the bespectacled boy altogether. Unfortunately this was rather difficult when the two boys shared a number of classes.

Draco yawned and allowed his eyes to wander away from the textbook and his own scribbled notes that lay before him on the table. His focus finally came to rest on the view outside the window. He could see the tall tower that housed the Owlery from where he was seated and couldn't help shuddering at the memories it provoked. Scowling at the brief spasm that had wracked his body, he forced himself to sit rigid with a closed expression on his face and once again trained his eyes on the tower. _'Take your punishment,' _a voice growled in his mind.

The grey-eyed youth wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting like this when he was interrupted by a crumpled ball of parchment bouncing against the knuckles of his right hand, knuckles that were bone white from clenching the edge of the desk tightly. Draco sat unmoving a second longer before releasing the table and grasping the parchment ball instead. He slowly smoothed out the missive, all the while breathing heavily through his nostrils with somewhat anxious anticipation. His eyes quickly skimmed over the three words scrawled therein.

_Are you OK?_

Draco lifted his head and chanced a glance around the room.

_Well, who else?_ Draco thought as his eyes rested on those of the note's author. Unsurprisingly they were a green pair, slightly obscured by round glasses and already focussed on him. Potter was actually sat twisted around in his chair so that he could stare at him, apparently oblivious to the attention he was attracting from his red-haired friend. The Weasel was alternating furtive, curious glances between Draco and Harry. The Mudblood was, predictably, too absorbed in her studies to pay attention to what was going on around her. Draco looked away just as the redhead seemed about to say something. Instead he focussed on the creased parchment in front of him again.

_Are you OK?_

Draco did not need to look up to know that Potter still had his eyes set on him. He knew there was no point in hoping for any respite from the penetrating glare until he responded to the note. Picking up his quill, he simply wrote the word 'yes' next to the scrawl already on the parchment. He balled it up and swiftly threw it back to the staring boy and made a point of leaning down low over the table and returning to work. His face was so close to the table top that the scratching of his quill sounded almost painfully loud in his ears and his hot breath hit the parchment he was writing on and came back, warm and almost moist, upon his cheeks. The blond had no idea what he was writing. In fact, he wasn't concentrating at all. Rather, he was waiting for…

The sphere of abused parchment had returned.

Draco pushed it pointedly off the edge of the table, making sure that Potter couldn't help but notice him not reading whatever was written inside. He tried to ignore the exasperated movements that he could see the Gryffindor making out of the corner of his eye, and was finally saved the effort by a loud, invasive voice.

"OK, seventh-years. I need you to LISTEN, please," Professor Turpin shouted, clapping her hands loudly to ensure the attention of the class, whilst tripping over the strap of a carelessly placed satchel. "You all seem to be getting _really_ stuck in here. Now, I am going to ask you _not_ to lose that enthusiasm because I will be splitting you up into pairs to study one of these topics in depth for the next few weeks…"

The class groaned loudly, albeit half-heartedly. The seventh-years were actually enjoying their work, but felt it was their duty as students to keep this under wraps from their teacher.

"Hmm, let's see. I would like… Gryffindors paired with Slytherins." The groans in response to this order were anything _but_ half-hearted. Professor Turpin sighed. "It is your last year at Hogwarts! Don't you think you are all getting just a little too old for this petty house rivalry?" Hearing no response, she added, "I will leave the actual pairing up to you. Once you have gotten yourself a partner, you are free to go."

Ron turned to Harry, ready to complain loudly about the predicament that they had been placed in, only to be greeted with his best friend's back as Harry approached Draco Malfoy. Ron gaped, and then spun in his seat towards Hermione, fully intending to share his incredulous response to Harry's actions. Instead he found himself facing another empty chair. Glancing around the room he spotted the Head Girl, tentatively asking Millicent Bulstrode to partner her.

With a look of disgust, the redhead leaned back in his chair and muttered to himself, "There's _no way_ I'm going to beg a Slytherin. Never." He regretted these sentiments when he left the classroom last, partnered with Gregory Goyle.

* * *

"_Goyle? **GOYLE?**_" Ron raged, pacing back and forth before the hearth in the Gryffindor common room later that evening. Harry stifled a snigger whilst Hermione attempted to soothe her friend.

"Well, it isn't as if Slytherin have much better to offer," Hermione said in a consoling tone, following the path that Ron was tearing into the faded, crimson carpet.

"_Zabini_ or that utter _twat_, Nott, would have been better. Hell, even _Crabbe_ would have been better. But no…" He chuckled in a way that held no enjoyment. "Oh, no, no, no… I get lumbered with **_GOYLE!_**"

"It could have been worse. Poor Harry's been partnered with Malfoy…"

"Poor Harry? He was practically _legging_ it over there! You should have seen him _begging_ that idiot to be his partner!" Ron ceased his pacing and turned on the blushing, dark-haired boy. "Weren't you?" It was more an accusation than a question.

"No," Harry said quietly, avoiding Ron's harsh, cold look and a rather penetrating and inquisitive stare from Hermione. He allowed the silence to swell around him while he traced his fingers lightly over the patterns on the arm of the overstuffed sofa he occupied. Shrugging, he added with a cheeky grin, "I just didn't want to be the one to end up with _Goyle_."

Ron growled and flung himself down beside Harry on the sofa, Hermione perching next to him. Ron eyed Harry and then grunted, "Wizards' chess?"

Harry accepted the challenge and sat quietly while Ron slid onto his knees in front of the low coffee table and began to set up. Thankful that they had now moved off the topic of Malfoy, Harry moved to kneel opposite Ron. He realised how stupid it had been of him not to think that his friends would notice how eagerly he had partnered the Slytherin. He was willing to accept the possibility that bounding up to the boy in front of all and sundry hadn't been the wisest move, but it had been an opportunity too good to miss. Weeks had now passed since the whole Room of Requirement episode and Harry was less than satisfied with how that had ended. Malfoy's abrupt departure had left things feeling somewhat… unfinished.

"C'mon, Harry. It's your move already," Hermione prompted from where she still sat on the sofa.

"You know what," Harry said, getting to his feet. "I've just remembered that I have stuff to attend to. Why don't you play instead, Hermione?"

Before Hermione could open her mouth to answer, Harry had headed to the portrait hole and clambered out.

* * *

Draco watched the school owl grow smaller and finally melt into the darkening sky. He wondered how long it would take to reach his mother in Malfoy Manor. He also wondered whether she'd reply, or if she'd even bother to read it. Draco leaned forward with a sigh, his shoulders hunched. He stood with his elbows resting on the windowsill, hands clasped and lightly pressed to his lips, eyes still intent on where he had last seen the owl. With another heavy exhalation, he dropped his head and allowed his arms to fall straight so that they jutted out from the building.

It wasn't so much a window he stood before as a large rectangle of missing wall. When stood facing it from the opposite side of the room, it appeared as if a vast painting of a landscape was obscuring the dark grey stone. A sloping green carpet could be seen there, disappearing under the feet of a forest, a many-legged beast whose colouring was such a dark green it almost looked a blue-black. Beyond the back of this crouching monster, mountains could only just be observed. They were pale and distant, making it questionable whether they were really there and piercing the heavily clouded sky.

The young Slytherin turned his back on the scenery and hoisted himself up so that he sat where his elbows had just vacated. He felt the skin on his back tingle underneath his robes at the potential fall it was being presented with. A corner of his mouth twitched.

"Maybe, if you're lucky…" Draco began to mutter before trailing away at the sound of the silence being broken. He came here for the quiet, the space to think undisturbed, and was not willing to jeopardise that with the sound of his own voice. The only sound he welcomed here was the occasional 'twit-twoo'ing of the owls that inhabited this chilly room in the tower.

Draco carefully swung a leg out of the 'window' and shuffled his bottom backwards, settling in a position where he could lean his back against the wall where the window frame would have been if this were, indeed, a window. Sat like this, straddling the wall so that half of him was safely inside the tower and the other half rather perilously _out_ of it, Draco allowed his thoughts to drift over the events of the day.

What a day it had been: mundanely unnoticeable, and yet profoundly exceptional. He had acquired a partner for a DADA project and spoken to a friend. Well, nothing remarkable about that. However, viewed from a slightly different perspective, he had somehow ended up caving in and allowing Potter to muscle his way in where Draco had worked so hard to seal him out these past few weeks _and_ been harangued by a murderer.

Without sparing a thought for his actions, the seventeen-year-old Slytherin removed a dagger from a scabbard concealed beneath his robes. The hilt was heavy due to being solid silver and bedecked with many jewels, mainly emeralds. In addition, intricate carvings enhanced the hilt's immense beauty. Draco's hands mechanically began to use the blade of his dagger to lever up and play with the dried bird shit surrounded him. His grey eyes didn't give the dagger so much as a glance, however. As well as feeling no desire to reencounter the 'Malfoy'etched onto the blade and being so familiar with the family heirloom that he was somewhat desensitised to its artistry, the boy's actions were going unnoticed as his mind continued to process his thoughts without allowing any interruption.

As far as Draco was concerned, avoiding Potter these past few weeks had not been optional. There was no way to deny that he had laid himself alarmingly bare in the strange darkness of that seventh floor room. That realisation had come with the sudden bright light that plundered the previously gloom-filled Room of Requirement. Scared of what else he might say if he stayed, Draco fled.

Once safely ensconced behind the heavy curtains of his four-poster in the Slytherin seventh-year dormitory, the young Malfoy had vowed that he would keep a distance between himself and the Gryffindor. Draco was rather pleased that he had managed to achieve this with little difficulty. Sure, Potter had gone out of his way to try and scupper his plans by trailing the Slytherin and occasionally even managing to corner the boy. However, a simple side step here and a duck under an outstretched arm there and all conversation had been avoided. No more secrets spilled, no more confessions, _mission accomplished_.

So why was Harry Potter now his Defence Against The Dark Arts partner?

_Bloody annoying_, Draco thought with an unimpressed sniff. _Bloody Gryffindors; always have to be the hero. OK, so maybe I was the one to seek him out originally. So maybe I as good as asked him to save me… Well, I'm not asking anymore. I don't need saving and I definitely don't need him to do it. I'm the head of the Malfoy estate._

Draco gave a single firm nod. He was right and he knew it. After all, wasn't that what Professor Snape had told him?

Severus…

Draco's mind replayed a particular encounter and conversation that had taken place just before he had sent the owl to his mother.

-x-

"_Professor Snape_…" Draco gasped, surprised to see his ex-Head of House walk into the Owlery, bold as brass. In fact, he was completely shocked at seeing the man in Hogwarts. Wasn't returning to the scene of your own crime supposed to be a big 'no-no'?

"I think we both know that I am no longer your teacher." The man's sooty eyes were hard and cold, much like his tone.

Draco nodded in a rather bewildered fashion, not quite knowing how to respond. He let his eyes slide away from the sallow face before him, that sallow face with eyes like wet chips of coal, and study the floor beneath his feet. The silence began to swell in a crescendo that slowly gripped and squeezed Draco's heart whilst creeping down his throat to settle in a blockade that prevented any further inhalation. A sense of panic sprung up within Draco and steadily began to rise along with the pressure in his body.

A sigh (barely masking irritation) and then in a slightly less acerbic tone…

"Call me 'Severus'."

Draco's eyes flicked back to meet Severus', his lungs filling once more, almost to bursting, with relief and oxygen. He felt the familiar prickling sensation that never seemed to be too far away these days. As he begged himself not to cry before this man, (_'Please…** please** not in front of him of all people'_), he felt the warm droplets splash onto his cheeks. The young man fought not to sob, but felt all control disappear like a thick duvet that is slipped off you by a miscreant, creeping slowly down your chest, your stomach, your hips, your thighs… down, down, down… to leave you shivering, alone and uncovered, on a cold night.

Severus stood still throughout, observing keenly with a blank face that revealed nothing. Suddenly coming to life, it appeared that he had now had his fill of the show.

"Pull your self together," Severus snapped at his ex-pupil. He waved his wand, conjuring a hard wooden chair, then motioned for Draco to occupy the seat with a jerk of his hand. He studied the near hysterical boy who had moved towards the chair with shaky steps and collapsed there. "Pathetic."

Draco seemed not to register the word, as there was no obvious link between his babbled response and the insult that had gone before. "Why are you here? How can you be here? You said… Severus… Does this mean that I am forgiven?"

Severus' upper lip curled back in a silent snarl, revealing his uneven yellow teeth. Draco shrunk back slightly. That particular curling of the lip was something that the Potions Master had mainly reserved for Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Admittedly it had also occasionally been directed at a member of his own house in cases of _extreme_ stupidity (usually due to Crabbe, Goyle or both), but never Draco Malfoy, never Snape's favourite student, the Slytherin Prince who could do no wrong.

"A Malfoy asking forgiveness? The idea of a Malfoy even _craving_ forgiveness, let alone asking for it, is simply laughable. Who are you? I mean, _look at you_." Snape emphasised the last three words with a thrust of his arm in Draco's direction, then leaned forward to breathe into the youth's face, "A snivelling wreck of a child. God, you're barely even a Slytherin."

Draco gasped at the harshness of the venom-laced words, then felt his shock turn into something else.

"What do you know of it?" Draco growled, propelling himself forward to further lessen the gap between himself and the other man's face in his anger. "I've got a father who is as good as dead and a mother who is slowly going insane. I've got fucking _nobody_ in this world. Sorry if I disappoint you with my 'snivelling' but I reckon I've earned the right. Who are _you_ to judge _me_?"

The junior of the pair straightened his back so that he could look down his nose at the other man, who was still bending from where he had earlier leant into the face of the juvenile. Severus retaliated by standing straight so that he once again towered over the young man. Draco lifted his face to his former teacher, his grey eyes blazing, refusing to be intimidated despite the dried tracks of tears that adorned his cheeks.

A slight smirk played on Severus' thin, pale lips.

"Angry, proud defiance; a much more Malfoy-like reaction." Severus intoned with something close to reverence. Noticing the narrowed-eyed confusion of his counterpart, Severus sighed and elaborated. "Draco, no-one can deny that you've suffered a loss and an upheaval, to put it mildly. No-one can deny the terrible experiences you have had to endure. However, it is not our experiences that make us weak but the way in which we deal with them."

Severus stopped here to search Draco's eyes for understanding. He found none. Instead Draco used the interlude as an opportunity to defend himself against what he perceived as an attack.

"So I am weak for shedding a tear for my father who is now no more than mere anatomy, a worthless husk? I am weak for crying over the neglect and the abuse that man made my mother and I suffer through before he was so abruptly taken away? I am weak for deigning to weep over the waning of my mother's sanity..?"

"**_NO!_**" Snape ejaculated with a heavy dose of exasperation at how long Draco was taking to grasp what he was saying. "Those things do not make you weak. You are entitled to your grief. Yet I ask you this: is it necessary to have the whole world as your audience? Cry your tears, Draco, but do not drown in them _and do not drown in them where people may see_."

Draco turned his head to look at the hazy sky outside, then nodded almost imperceptibly, and lowered his head to examine the floor for the second time in this exchange.

"You're the head of a great estate now. You have many responsibilities and many more yet to come. These are things you cannot allow yourself to forget. They are things your father forgot when he put service of the Dark Lord before all else." Severus steamed on despite Draco's head snapping up to look at him. "He followed the Dark Lord blindly. He put everything on the line for a being that was willing to put nothing on the line for him. He neglected his duties as a businessman, a husband, a father… in short, he was a fool. Will you make the same mistakes?"

"How can you speak this way? How _dare you_ speak this way of my father, of the Dark Lord..?" Draco spluttered, then stopped. His eyes widened with understanding. "But, of course…"

Severus nodded, unashamed. Draco released a mirthless chuckle.

"All this time? All this time you were secretly sabotaging and working against the Dark Lord. You were on the side of the Light! Why else would Hogwarts permit you to enter?" The question hung in the air. It needed no response as the answer had come before the question itself.

"Well done, Draco."

"So, Dumbledore is in hiding…" Draco began feverishly, excited at all this new information he could use to put the Malfoys back into the Dark Lord's good graces.

"He is dead," Severus said tonelessly and in somewhat of a rush, as if the words burnt his tongue as they tripped out.

"But…"

"You were there. You saw it. Look…" Severus interjected, only to be interrupted himself in turn.

"You want me to turn my back on the Dark Lord?"

Severus shrewdly eyed the lithe youth before him. The air of the question had been filled with incredulity and the young man's facial expression echoed the disbelief. Clearly the Potion Master had stepped into unsafe waters by allowing the Slytherin to know so much. Yet…

"I think you know enough to draw your own conclusions with regards to that. Your father allowed himself to become lost in the Dark, becoming nothing more than a minion to the Dark Lord, and then eventually nothing. I came here to speak to you of the Dark _you_ have created: your grief. Face up to your responsibilities and face up to yourself, _who you are_, otherwise you have only the rather bleak prospect of becoming lost in and a minion to your own wretchedness."

-x-

Draco finally noticed how his hands were engaging themselves and quickly put the dagger away, wrinkling his nose at the bird shit around him. He jumped down from his perch and busied himself with inspecting his robes and waving his wand at any dirt he could spot.

"Malfoy!"

Draco looked up and frowned.

"Potter."

Potter paused, looking slightly nervous, then smiled broadly at the Slytherin.

"I was just coming to send you an owl." The green-eyed boy waved a scrap of parchment in a manner that Draco found cheerful to an offensive degree. "To arrange a meeting for Defence…"

"What fun," Draco snarled, and made a move to walk past the Gryffindor and out of the Owlery. A hand on his upper arm thwarted all plans of escape.

Draco shivered slightly at the touch. He remembered when this boy had last touched him, when he had held and comforted him on their first night back at Hogwarts. This boy, Harry Potter, had been the only person in the whole school to bother. _'I have fucking **nobody** in this world.' _The words revisited Draco, prompting the familiar pressure to build behind his eyes at the thought that this boy was _somebody_. Grey eyes shakily lifted upwards to desperately search for strength, but found it elsewhere. The aid Draco called on did not come from a deity seated amongst the birds that slept along the white-streaked rafters.

_Severus_…

Draco slowly turned to face the other boy with his Malfoy mask in place, eyes steely and glistening. He registered the brief flit of fear that dashed across the features of the darker boy. He lifted a single eyebrow, feeling much relish at being handed the opportunity to do so. Surely the eyebrow raise was a Malfoy patent.

"I suggest you remove that hand," Draco leaned forward, "if you wish to keep it." He had whispered that last part directly into Potter's ear, delighting (just a little) in the other boy's widening eyes and lowering hand.

**Author's Notes: **Ugh, I'm not a fan of this chapter and I clearly can't write Snape. Apologies for any OOC-ness. Responses to reviewers as promised:

**randomlymoist**: cackles …loser!

**trisha**: slightly missing the point, but thank you muchly! LoL

**finalliberation**: cheers, ma dear! i hope to see some of your stuff available to the public soon. Also, it might interest you to know that i wrote Tonks with Irena from NG in mind… at least i think that was her name, i forget. (:s) (She always wore black..?)

**Clive**: my, my… Thanks! gushes

You mentioned the pairing. i think that hp/dm is a pairing that all slash lovers should appreciate; i mean… how could you not? (Also hp/rl, mmm…)

Anyhoo, i feel it is only right that i point out that this fic isn't _really_ slash. i have tried to inject a little bit of Snape (with horrific results), but mark my words: this WILL NOT become a hp/ss. Sorry…

**animegirl9001**: Ach, sorry about the delay! Please, please, please… let the devastation end!

Also, more 'thank you's to **tuesday night**, **Silverness**, **Touya4me**, **Lina**, **Duncan**, **LoLo** and **ECCHie**!


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